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OUR NEIGHBORS 


OF 

THE FORESTS 


STORIES FOR CHILDREN 


BY 

ALICE E. ALLEN > 

ii i , 

> ) 5 


EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BOSTON 

New York Chicago San Francisco 






"PZto 

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Copyright, 1913 

BY 

EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 



DEC 31 I9i3 


©ClA35t>5*7 2 



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ky 

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CONTENTS 

Page 

Fawns ....... 5 

Squirrels.18 

Beavers.35 

Bears.51 

Foxes.69 

Woodchucks.89 

Rabbits ....... 99 

Monkeys . . . . . .115 


3 



FAWN 







OUR NEIGHBORS 
OF THE FORESTS 


FAWNS 

In the great, green woods, where 
wild animals live, we find deer with 
big, beautiful horns. 

These horns grow very large. They 
spread out something like the branches 
of a tree. Do you know why Mother 
Nature has given deer these horns ? 
Every animal has some means of pro¬ 
tection, and deer have horns so that 
they can protect themselves. 

Deer have many enemies. When they 

5 



6 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

are attacked by other animals they strike 
out with their horns, which can wound 
severely. But a deer’s worst enemy is 
man. Every year the harmless animals 
are hunted for their meat, soft skins, 
and fearless heads with their beautiful 
branching horns. 

Horns are strong and cruel. But they 
are not protection against men with 
guns. So deer have other ways of tak¬ 
ing care of themselves which make them 
hard to capture. 

Their keen noses know every scent 
of the forest and can tell danger far off. 
Their great brown eyes, too, are always 
on the watch. Their sensitive ears 
twitch nervously at every sound, and 
when danger is near a deer’s safest 
plan is to run. 

A deer has wonderful feet, swift and 
tireless. When he runs and leaps, down 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 7 

these feet come safe and sound each 
time in the centre of narrow path or 
dangerous ledge, pause for an instant, 
and then bound away again. 

The mother deer has no horns to pro¬ 
tect herself and her little ones. Some¬ 
times the male deer goes about with her. 
But much of the time she must look 
after herself. 

She has such a strange, pretty way of 
taking care of her little ones before they 
are old enough to take care of them¬ 
selves. She is a dull, tawny color from 
pointed nose to tip of tail; but the 
underside of body and tail are white as 
snow. 

When she scents danger she gives 
a long, loud cry of warning to her 
babies, turns, lifts high her tail so that 
its white lining shows at a distance, 
and is off and away. That tail stands 


8 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

up white against the darkness of the 
forest like a little light, and shows the 
young deer the way. Well they know 
the meaning of that lifted tail. “Dan¬ 
ger! quick! follow me!” it says. 

A young deer is called a fawn. May¬ 
be, if we lived in the woods for awhile 
and were always very quiet and careful, 
we might find some baby fawns hidden 
away somewhere all alone. 

They are pretty little things. They 
have soft, warm, gold-brown fur all 
dappled over with great glints of pale 
yellow and white. When she made 
their coats, Mother Nature looked care¬ 
fully to the safety of these gentle little 
creatures. For when they curl up 
under an old log, or hide in the shade 
of a tree, their pretty coats are so 
much like moss and leaves with 
and shadow dancing across them, tn^r 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 9 

the little animals can scarcely be 
seen. 

Look at the fawn in the picture. 
What a beautiful little fellow he is! 
His pretty head is half lifted to listen. 
His long, velvety ears stand up straight 
and are all a-quiver. His trusting face 
and glorious eyes seem to say, “I’m 
such a little fawn, please don’t hurt me.” 

Young fawns are said to be very 
tame. A man who loves all animals, 
once found two baby fawns alone in a 
little hollow. Their mother had hidden 
them there while she went to find 
something to eat. 

The baby fawns were almost as tame 
as kittens. They looked up at the 
man trustingly with gentle brown eyes. 
He rubbed their soft heads. They 
nestled close to him and licked his 
hands. They would not go away from 


io Our Neighbors of the Forests 

him even when their mother called 
them. So he had to put them back in 
their little nest and leave them. 

They were still too small to know 
that deer must be afraid of men. They 
had not yet learned the scent of a 
human being which to a deer means 
gun! click! bang! all sorts of danger 
ahead. 


Story About a Fawn 

Once a little boy lost himself in the 
forest. There were many people to 
watch him — Father, Mother, Auntie, 
Uncle Ben, Cousin Nell, and Nurse, 
to say nothing of Sambo, the big dog, 
but still he wandered away. 

He was walking along the trail when 
suddenly — there wasn’t any trail. The 
trees were all in a tangle. The camp 
was gone. It was almost dark. And 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 


ii 


there he was, poor little frightened 
Ted, all alone in the big, big forest. 

He called and cried. A great owl 
came out and called back, “Whoo-o! 
Whoo-o!” And the woods, which had 
been just the loveliest place in the 
world, were all full of queer, creepy 
noises. As it grew dark, it grew cold, 
too. Ted walked a long way and 
didn’t get anywhere. And when the 
stars came out, tired, hungry, and oh, 
so homesick! he crept into the shelter 
of an old broken down camp. There 
he curled up and went to sleep. 

If Ted had only known — someone 
else was lost in the great wood, too — 
a little shiny, golden gray fawn. He 
and his mother and sister had been 
browsing away contentedly, when faint 
and far off there had come to their quick 
ears a low rustle — rustle — rustle. 






12 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

His mother lifted her beautiful head, 
her ears like trumpets, and sniffed sus¬ 
piciously. She gave a cry to her little 
ones which meant, “Look out! Come!” 
she was off, her white tail lifted like 
a flag. His sister then followed at 
once, directly behind her mother. Her 
white tail was lifted, too. Away, away, 
away, went the two. With splendid 
strides, the mother leaped across logs 
and over gullies and bounded on. She 
was as swift and graceful and fearless 
as a bird. The young fawn was awk¬ 
ward yet. She had not learned how 
to jump and come down on all four 
little feet at once. But she followed 
her mother, leaping as nearly as she 
could in her tracks. 

All at once she lost sight of the 
white tails. A thicket of woods hid 
them from sight. The little fawn 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 13 

stopped, slipped into a shadow and 
waited. He was so much the color 
of the shadow that no one could see 
him. Mother called first one side and 
then another, but he was such a little 
fawn he didn’t know how to go to her. 

Then bang! bang! bang! A hard 
round something buzzed by him. It 
just missed his head. It frightened 
him dreadfully. 

He looked and looked. He ran this 
way and that. There was no white 
tail. No little sister. No mother. No 
anything but woods and stars like big 
eyes looking down at him. And some¬ 
where in the woods there were big 
hungry bears. 

He shivered with cold. By and by, 
as he ran along, he came to an old camp 
in a cleared spot. It was warmer in 
its shelter. So, the little lost fawn lay 


14 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

down and curled up like a kitten. He 
was very close to another little curled-up 
heap — Ted himself — but he did not 
know it. 

For awhile they slept close together, 
the little lost boy and the little lost 
fawn. And before long — quite sud¬ 
denly — the fawn awoke. There, com¬ 
ing toward him, was a big bright 
something which dazzled him and yet 
fascinated him. He crept toward it. 
Oh, how it glowed! — a ball of fire in 
the darkness. The little fawn, his eyes 
full of wonder and fear, crept closer 
and closer. Then something warned 
him. There was a spring, a rustle, 
a flash of gold and white, and the 
fawn was gone! 

The bright light which the fawn had 
seen was a torch. It was carried by 
Ted’s father. Uncle Ben was just be- 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 15 

hind. The crackling and rustling woke 
Ted. He saw the light. Then he saw 
his father. He screamed with joy. 

Father lifted his little boy into his 
strong arms. Close to the hollow, in 
the pine needles where Ted had slept, 
both saw another little hollow. It was 
still quite warm. That was where the 
fawn had slept. 






























SQUIRRELS 
The Red Squirrel 

Out in the woods one day, after 
butternuts, Bobby heard a strange noise. 
It wasn’t the “Whit kwit?” of a 
partridge. It wasn’t the cheery “Chuck, 
chuck, chuck,” of a chipmunk, sitting 
in the sunshine outside his den. It 
was a kind of drumming on wood. 
And with the rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, 
was a scurrying of feet and a series of 
squeals and screams, like nothing so 
much as a squirrel. Bobby listened. 
The rat-a-tatting and squealing and 
squirming kept up. 

It was a squirrel — or two squirrels. 


18 Our Neighbors of the Forests 


Bobby could hear two voices. One 
was shrill. The other was deep and 



hoarse. And they mixed together in 
the queerest way. 

At last Bobby found the tree where 
the racket was going on. It was a 








Our Neighbors of the Forests 19 

tall oak tree. There, on a low hori¬ 
zontal limb, sat a saucy red squirrel. 
He wriggled and giggled and screamed 
with laughter. And all the time, he 
beat out the jolliest little jig on the 
branch. 

But where was the other squirrel ? 
Bobby could still hear the two voices. 
But he could see only one squirrel. 
At last, Bobby found out something 
that made him open his eyes wide. 
That queer little squirrel up there 
owned both voices himself. 

The red squirrel is as much a part 
of October as the dropping nuts and 
red and yellow leaves. His gay little 
chatter belongs to autumn woods quite 
as much as the bobolink’s song does 
to June meadows. 

Invade some butternut or hickory grove on 
a frosty October morning, and hear the red 


20 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

squirrel beat the “ juba” on a horizontal branch. 
It is a most lively jig, what the boys call 
“regular breakdown,” interspersed with squeals 
and snickers and derisive laughter. The most 
noticeable peculiarity about the vocal part is 
the fact that it is a kind of duet. In other 
words, by some ventriloquial tricks, he appears 
to accompany himself as if his voice split up, 
a part forming a low guttural sound, and a 
part a shrill nasal sound. — John Burroughs. 

% 

Do you see the little red squirrel 
in the picture ? He fairly bubbles over 
with fun. He is as full of his pranks 
as a hand organ is of tunes. His 
home is the great green wood. The 
fences and stone walls are his rail¬ 
roads. On them he travels to orchards 
where apples are ripe. Or, sometimes, 
when times are hard, he ventures to 
some barn and helps himself to the 
farmer’s grain. 

Many times on his journey he stops 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 


21 


for lunch. He sits up straight. His 
long bushy tail fits into the pretty 
curve of his back. Between his paws 
he holds a ripe hickory nut. He turns 
it from side to side. He crunches into 
it with his sharp white teeth. He 
munches daintily. All the time his 
big, bright eyes watch, his keen ears 
listen. He is one quiver of excitement 
from the tips of his ears to the end of 
his tail. A sound — he is off and 
away, a streak of rusty red against 
the gray of the fence rail. 

If he finds that he need not have 
been frightened, he stops again. He 
pulls himself together with many a 
quick jerk and turn, and goes on with 
his meal. He cocks his pretty head, 
now on one side, now on the other. 
If he sees you peering at him, he looks 
you all over. When he finds you will 



22 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

not harm him, he screams, and laughs, 
and chatters. He is so saucy you are 
quite sure he says, “Oh, what a silly 
thing to be a little boy! It’s so much 
more fun to b.e a squirrel.” 

He is such a happy-go-lucky sort of 
fellow that he doesn’t bother much to 
lay up food for the winter. Sometimes, 
he sticks a few extra nuts here and 
there in the forked branches of trees, 
or hides them away in saplings in case 
he should need them. This isn’t such 
a poor plan in some ways, either. For 
with his food scattered about, the red 
squirrel can go away from home, quite 
sure that no thief will find all his stores. 
He is more or less active all winter. 

When the freezing days come, the 
little red squirrel knows some very 
hungry minutes. But he scurries away 
over the snow, sure that he will find 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 23 

something. Perhaps there are a few 
frozen apples left in the orchard. The 
seeds of these will do for breakfast. 
Sometimes he dines scantily on sumach 
buds, or the seeds he finds hidden away 
in hemlock cones. 

The Chipmunk 

There is another squirrel called the 
chipmunk. He is lighter in color than 
the red squirrel. His tail is shorter 
and smaller. He has long, narrow, 
black stripes on each side of his body. 

If you could examine his mouth, 
you would see a tiny flap of skin on 
the inside of each cheek. These open 
inside and make real little pockets. 
Cheek pockets are handy things to 

have, the chipmunk finds. He doesn’t 
need to carry his food in his teeth, as 
other squirrels do. 


24 Our Neighbors of the Forests 


He lives in a hole which he digs in 
the ground. It would seem that the 
little fellow would leave the loose soil 



which he digs out somewhere near by. 
But usually there isn't a trace of it to 
be seen when the snug little nest is 
finished. Only the little builder him- 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 25 

self knows where the door is. Perhaps 
he carries away the loose earth in his 
cheek pockets. 

He likes a maple leaf quite as well 
as anything. He picks out a good 
sized one, and tucks it with both hands 
into those handy little pockets of his. 
Then away he goes by the most round¬ 
about paths to his home. 

Close to his home he stores a tidy 
pile of nuts — enough to last him all 
winter. In December he goes into his 
den. There he stays, warm and cozy, 
all winter long. He always lives by 
himself. He never comes out of his 
nest until March. Then he is up and 
stirring. Who could sleep under the 
ground when woodpeckers drum and 
frogs chirp that spring has come ? 

March is mating time for chipmunks. 
In May, four or five babies are born 


26 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

to the proud little parents. And busy 
times begin. The babies must be fed 
and cared for. So the scamper and 
scramble for food begins. And all the 
time one must watch out for sounds 
and scents that mean “A dog is com¬ 
ing!” -“There is a boy with a gun! 
Run! Run!” 

Busy as they are, chipmunks have 
plenty of time for play. Did you ever 
see two or three of them having a game 
of tag ? Round and round they scam¬ 
per, first one ahead, then another. 
And they chatter and scream, and 
seem to have as good a time as school 
children out at recess. 

The Gray Squirrel 

Is much larger than the red one. 
He is an elegant little fellow. On the 
upper parts of his body his fur is gray. 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 27 

The under parts are white, and there 
are yellowish-brown dashes of color on 
his back and sides. 

His ears are high, narrow, and 
pointed. He has a magnificent bushy 
tail of which he is very proud. It is 
more than an ornament. When he 
takes a leap from some tall tree, his 
great tail is arched and helps break 
his fall. And when he goes to sleep, 
he wraps it about him, like a warm, 
furry blanket. 

A story is told of a gray squirrel 
who once lost part of his tail. He 
was heart-broken. He went away and 
hid, and nothing could coax him from 
his hiding place. 

The gray squirrel lives in the trunk 
of some old tree. It has an entrance 
far up in the branches. When spring 
comes, the little fellow seems to feel 


28 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

the need of a summer home. So he 
selects a pleasant location — usually in 
a tree near to his old home. 

Here he builds a pretty cottage of 
small, leafy twigs. To this home he 
brings his mate. And here the baby 
squirrels are born and brought up. 
The old home is not forgotten. The 
squirrels often visit it. And when 
they are in danger, it is to this home 
that they run for safety. 

Gray squirrels are easily tamed. In 
some cities they play about the paths 
of public parks and along the road¬ 
sides. They seem quite as much at 
home as the children who pet and feed 
them. In these cities, laws are made 
to keep people from killing or harming 
the tame squirrels. 

A little girl who lives in New York 
City told me about the squirrels in 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 29 

Central Park. When she goes to the 
park she always carries a bag of pea- 
* nuts for them. She sits down on the 
walk and they come all about her for 
the nuts. Some of them always come 
and eat out of her hands. Others wait 
until they think she is not looking, 
run up, grab a nut, run away, and 
eat it at a safe distance. And some of 
them will never come near her, no 
matter how long she coaxes them. 
For these timid ones she always leaves 
some nuts nicely shelled. 

The Flying Squirrel 

There is one squirrel who is up and 
doing only at night. 

All day he is rolled up in a furry 
ball. But at night — how he flies about, 
building his house or storing up nuts. 

This is the flying squirrel. He is 



30 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

unlike other squirrels. He has a fold of 
skin between each fore and hind leg. 

These folds are strong and elastic. 
They are partly held up by the bony 
part of the feet. When the squirrel 
leaps, these folds spread out, some¬ 
thing like wings, and break his fall. 

Although this squirrel is called a 
flying squirrel, his way of getting 
through the air is not like a bird’s. 
He cannot fly upward. His flight is 
only a long-drawn-out descent. He 
drops quickly in a slanting direction. 
His legs are held straight and stiff 
from his body. His ■ body itself is 
made broad and flat. His tail acts 
something like a rudder. 

A Story 

Mabel’s birthday was on the thirty- 
first day of October. Her mother said 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 31 

she might have a party and invite all 
the little girls in the village. And 
because it was All Hallow E’en, the 
children were to bob for apples and 
roast chestnuts. Best of all, they were 
to sit around the fire and see who 
could tell the best story. 

Elsie was Mabel’s chum. She lived 
near the woods and was to furnish the 
chestnuts. She gathered them in a 
big basket. Then she picked out the 
plumpest ones and spread them on the 
attic floor to dry. 

One day she went to look at 
her pile of nuts. She was sure some 
were gone. She counted those that 
were left. The next day she counted 
again. There were just six nuts 
missing. 

Mother said Elsie had not counted 
right. No one but Elsie had been in 


32 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

the attic. And a rat would not carry 
off the nuts whole. 

But the next day five more nuts were 
gone. And the next day, six more. 
And every day they disappeared. 

Elsie slept in a room under the attic. 
On the morning of Mabel’s birthday, 
she heard a strang sound outside the 
window, in the big maple tree. 

There sat a saucy red squirrel with 
big round eyes. He rocked fearlessly 
on a high branch. In his paws was a 
ripe chestnut. It was so good. He 
nodded his head and snickered about 
it to himself while he nibbled. 

When he had finished the nut, he 
glanced all about. He didn’t see the 
little girl in the window. So he frisked 
away up the tree toward the attic 
window. The window was closed and 
fastened. Elsie waited and listened. 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 33 

She heard little feet scurry up the roof 
of the house. In a minute they came 
nearer. They were on the floor of the 
attic over her head! 

How did the squirrel find his way in ? 
Down the chimney ? Elsie never knew. 

But in another minute there was a 
rattle of nuts, a scamper, a rush and a 
rustle, and then, there sat the tiny 
thief on the maple bough, eating an¬ 
other of her nuts, shaking and chuckling 
with mirth. 

It was only a small basket of nuts 
that Elsie carried to the party. She 
didn’t say anything about the red- 
brown squirrel, who had eaten more 
than his share without roasting them, 
until the time came for the stories. 
Then she told all about him just the 
best she could. And she did so well 
that she won the first prize. 


34 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

And what do you suppose it was ? 
A beautiful gray squirrel in a big cage 
with a wheel. 


BEAVERS 


You wouldn’t think, from his pic¬ 
ture, that a beaver knew much. He 
has a queer, squat-looking body, and 
a head that seems flattened lengthwise. 
His small eyes are set on the slant 
and wide apart. When he walks, he 
is awkward enough. His forelegs are 
much shorter than his hind ones, and 
all of them seem too short for his 
body. He wriggles along, stepping on 
the soles of his webbed hind feet, but 
using only the toes of his fore feet. 
His tail seems in the way, too, as it 
drags along behind. But when he 
plunges into the water, away he swims 
as easily as can be. Webbed hind feet, 
he finds, are just the things to have 

35 





beaver 
















Our Neighbors of the Forests 37 

when one wants to swim. And as for 
his clumsy tail, he couldn’t get on 
without that. It makes such a fine 
rudder. By turning it this way and 
that, he steers himself wherever he 
wants to go. 

Queer as he is, the beaver is a bright 
little creature. He not only cuts down 
trees; he builds dams and lays out 
villages. 

Long ago, beaver villages were found 
on many of our forest lakes and streams. 
Then men came. They cut down trees. 
They ploughed the land and built barns 
and houses. The beaver soon found 
that he wasn’t safe. His warm brown 
skin, which was so comfortable to wear, 
made him trouble. For, once off his 
body, it sold to the fur companies for 
a large sum of money. 

So the beavers took their families 


38 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

and went away into the woods. Soon 
they were again in danger. For more 
trees were cut down, and more farms 
and villages were laid out. Farther 
and farther the little creatures went, 
keeping away from civilization just as 
much as possible. Now, with great 
farms, towns, cities, and railroads every¬ 
where, the little brown beaver is seldom 
found in our woods. He has gone to 
the great forest of the north. There 
he still builds dams and houses, using 
always the same old patterns. 

During the summer, beavers live in 
some quiet stream or pond. They sleep 
in snug burrows in the bank. They 
eat the tender plants which grow in 
the water. Sometimes they go into the ‘ 
woods berrying. Best of all, they like 
bark — there is nothing quite so de¬ 
licious, you would know if you were a 



39 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

beaver, as the bark of poplar and 
willow trees. 

Several families live together in a 
kind of tribe. One of the oldest and 
wisest male beavers is the chief. In 
each family, beside the father and 
mother, there are a half-dozen or so 
little beavers. The little beavers weigh 
about ten pounds, and the fully-grown 
beavers, sometimes as much as fifty 
pounds. 

When the days grow short and the 
nights crisp and cold, some morning 
the beavers see a silver fringe of ice 
on the faded ferns at the edge of the 
water. Soon the stream will be a mass 
of glistening ice. It is high time to 
think about building winter homes. 

First, they must look up just the 
best place to lay out their village. 
This is often a stream rather than a 


40 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

lake. It is said that the beavers choose 
running water so that everything about 
their homes will be kept fresh and 
clean. If they can find a stream so 
deep that it will not freeze from top 
to bottom, even in the coldest weather, 
they set at work at once to build their 
houses. 

But often the handiest stream is 
quite shallow. Then it is that the 
beavers show what clever, patient little 
creatures they are. For with great 
skill and quickness they build a dam 
to deepen the water in the stream. 
All summer they have cut down trees 
just for this purpose. 

Cutting Down Trees 

How can so small an animal cut 
down trees ? He sits up on his queer 
hind feet, puts both fore feet around 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 


4i 


the trunk — often six or eight inches 
across — and then uses his teeth. They 
are wonderful teeth, sharp and hard. 
And the more they are used, the sharper 
and harder they grow. 

Crunch, crunch, crunch, go the little 
teeth in a circle around the trunk. 
Crunch, crunch, crunch, round and 
round and round. The chips fly, the 
gash grows deeper and deeper, until 
the centre of the trunk is reached and 
the tree topples and falls. After the 
beavers have cut down enough trees 
for their dam, the place looks as if it 
had been cleared by wood-choppers. 

Building Dams 

With their teeth the beavers drag 
the trees to the edge of the stream and 
push them into the water. The cur¬ 
rent floats them along. When the trees 





a beaver’s dam 































































Our Neighbors of the Forests 43 

reach the place where the dam is to 
be built, the beavers place them across 
the stream. Sometimes, there are roots 
at the bottom of the stream which help 
to hold the trees in place. And the 
beavers bring everything they can find 
to fill in gaps and crevices — branches, 
stones, sticks, and mud. The mud 
they bring from the bed of the stream. 
They hold it in little balls under the 
chin with one fore paw. 

Near the centre of the dam the 
beavers leave a little low place where, 
when the stream above the dam be¬ 
comes deep enough, the water runs 
over. Often, the whole dam is built 
in one night. It is so close and firm 
that not a drop of water can get 
through. It is said that men learned 
to build their dams from the beavers. 
You can understand, now that you see 



44 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

how hard beavers work, what people 
mean when they say they “have worked 
like beavers.” 

Building Houses 

After the dam is finished, the beavers 
build their houses. They bring logs, 
branches, sticks and stones. These they 
lay in a circle on the bed of the stream 
above the dam. Around this founda¬ 
tion they dig a trench. The water may 
sometimes freeze to the bottom of the 
stream but never to the bottom of the 
trench. 

A large family makes a house for 
itself. Sometimes, several small fam¬ 
ilies live together in one house. In 
this case, partitions are put in so that 
each family has its own rooms. 

Each house has two stories. The 
room in the lower story — below the 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 45 


water — is large enough for the whole 
family and the winter stores of sticks 
and bark. Here, too, is the door. 
Through this door, the beavers come 
and go without showing so much as 
an ear above the water. In the 
upper story is another room, high 
and dry, above the water, where, the 
beavers sleep. The walls of the 
house are very thick. The roofs are 
prettily rounded, and show like mounds 
above the water or ice of the stream. 
Perhaps the early Eskimos used beaver 
houses for models for their own homes. 
Anyway, they look very much like 
them. 

When they are quite sure that a 
heavy frost is coming to freeze up 
everything, the beavers plaster the out¬ 
side of their homes entirely with mud. 
After the mud is frozen solid, it is so 



46 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

hard that not even a beaver’s sharp 
teeth can make a hole in it. 

All winter long, the little brown 
beavers hide themselves in these cozy 
lake houses. They have burrows in the 
banks of the stream, where they often 
go. This is great fun, no doubt, but it 
is not safe. Hunters are on the watch 
and often catch them in their burrows. 

When spring melts the ice of the 
stream, the beavers leave their village. 
They go to their summer pond — cool 
and quiet under the trees. When fall 
comes, they will go back to their little 
lake village, make what repairs are 
necessary in cottages and dams, and 
go into winter quarters. 

Harry’s Pet Beaver 

One day, Harry went for a walk in 
the woods. It was a very cold day 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 47 

and there was snow everywhere, but 
Harry didn’t mind that. 

When he came to the beaver stream, 
he must stop just to see what was going 
on. It had been a busy place in the 
fall, but to-day it was very quiet. 
Only the roofs of the queer little homes 
showed above the ice. All the beavers, 
of course, were inside sound asleep. 
Harry did wish he could catch them 
awake and at work just once. 

Just then, Harry heard stealthy foot¬ 
steps. Farther up the stream he saw 
two hunters step out on the ice. They 
were after beaver skins. 

Straight to one of the largest beaver 
homes they went. Harry wished he 
could let the beavers know that they 
were in danger. But he could only 
creep to the edge of the ice and watch. 

One of the trappers made a hole in 


48 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

the ice. It was between the beavers’ 
house and the bank where their bur¬ 
rows were. This man stood by the 
hole and watched the dark water. The 
other man went to the house and 
rapped sharply with his stick on the 
roof two or three times. 

In a minute, Harry saw the trapper 
near the hole in the ice stoop down, 
and strike at something in the water. 
Harry could wait no longer. He ran 
across the ice. One trapper held a 
fine large beaver, already dead. The 
other had a strong young one in his 
arms. 

“They’ll bring a good price,” said 
the first man, as Harry came up. 

“What’ll we do with the young ’un ?” 
asked the other. The poor little beaver 
trembled in the man’s arms. He looked 
at Harry with frightened eyes. 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 49 

“Let me have him, please/’ said 
Harry, quickly. “I’ll give you fifty 
cents for him.” 

The men laughed and talked to¬ 
gether. Then they took Harry’s half 
dollar and he took the beaver. Mother 
was surprised when she saw Harry’s 
new pet. Father found a big cage. 
When the beaver was once inside and 
nibbling a stick, he seemed quite at 
home. 

Harry named him Brownie. The 
little beaver became quite tame; but 
sometimes he looked so sad, that Harry 
feared he missed his little round-roofed 
cottage in the stream. But usually he 
was very happy and nibbled his twigs 
quite as eagerly as if he had been as 
busy as the busiest beaver who was 
ever chief of a thriving lake-village. 

Another story is told of a beaver 


50 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

that was captured when he was very 
young, and who lived in a family as 
free and contentedly as the cat or dog. 
They often wondered if he would ever 
show any signs of building houses or 
dams, if he ever saw anything of the 
kind. One day the mother in the 
family put a pail of water on the floor. 
It began to leak. The beaver saw the 
water slowly running away. He rushed 
out and began to gather chips, sticks, 
and anything he could find and tried to 
make a dam around the pail to stop 
the water. You see, he had the instinct 
of the beavers, even if he had never 
seen a dam built before he was stolen 
away from home. 


BEARS 

Away up in the woods of Maine and 
Canada lives a black bear. He is a 
great glossy fellow. He has sharp white 
teeth and sharp black claws. The In¬ 
dians call him Mooween. If you could 
know Mooween, as he lives alone by 
himself in the great woods, you would 
know a bear at his very best. 

Perhaps because he doesn’t care to 
see you, a bear is given weak, near¬ 
sighted eyes. His keen nose and sharp 
ears tell him all about your comings 
and goings. 

Should you meet a bear out for a 
walk in his own woods, you probably 

won’t have much time to study him. 

51 


v 



BEARS 







Our Neighbors of the Forests 53 

It is said that he always has several 
plans of getting away from you inside 
his head. Just what he will decide to 
do depends much upon what you do 
yourself. He sizes you up. If you are 
frightened, he puts on a bold face and 
stands his ground. If you meet his 
gaze with no signs of fear, he usually 
walks quietly away. Shout at him. 
Flourish your stick. In a minute he 
will turn and rush away. Where there 
was a bear there will be only a flying 
set of feet and a shower of chips and 
stones. 

So you see, in spite of his name, 
which suggests dreadful things, in spite 
of his cruel claws and terrible teeth, 
which could tear you to shreds, in 
spite of his great strong arms, which 
could crush you to death, an ordinary 
bear is really a timid fellow. He likes 


54 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

the peace and quiet of the woods. All 
he asks of you is to leave him alone. 

Cubs 

Bear cubs look like great clumsy 
black kittens. They are brimful of fun 
and frolic. They watch every move¬ 
ment of their big mother and mimic 
her in the drollest way. Sometimes 
they play real monkey-tricks on her. 
If she is good-natured, she licks them 
with her tongue and seems to like the 
fun. Sometimes she feels cross. Then 
she cuffs her children with her great 
paws. 

Cubs, sometimes, stand up on their 
hind legs and box. They strike big 
blows at each other with their pudgy 
paws. They have wrestling matches. 
When one goes down, the other fellow 
stands over him. He takes him by 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 55 

the throat, growls, and pretends to be 
very fierce. 

It is said that cubs sometimes play 
a game something like hide-and-seek 
with their mother. While she is away 
from home, they run away and hide. 
When she comes back, she may coax 
and she may scold. Those naughty 
cubs will not come to her. She must 
go and hunt them up. 

The mother bear takes great care of 
her little black babies. She teaches 
them all about the scents and sounds 
of the woods — and just what ones 
mean danger. When they are still very 
young, she takes them between her 
teeth, carries them to a brook or pond, 
and gives them a thorough bath. The 
water is cold. The cubs kick and 
struggle and splutter. Little the mother 
cares. She dips them and souses them. 


56 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

Then she puts them in the sun to 
dry. 

Often she has help in taking care of 
her babies. A bear joins the. family. 
He is larger than a cub, but not fully 
grown. He is the older brother of the 
cubs. Last year he was only a cub 
himself. 

He helps teach the cubs to run 
swiftly, to swim, and to climb. He 
isn’t always as patient as the mother 
bear. Big brothers aren’t often. If 
he gets cross with the little ones, or 
teases them, the mother bear boxes 
his ears just as she did when he was a 
cub. 


Food 

During the summer and fall, bears 
tramp, tramp, tramp, about the woods. 
They eat until they can eat no more. 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 57 

Then they sleep. When they wake up, 
they begin to tramp and eat again. 
They eat whatever the woods offer 

— roots, plants, leaves, nuts, and berries. 
Sometimes they visit nearby gardens 
and help themselves to ripe vegetables. 
They even dig up and eat the farmer’s 
potatoes. 

When plant food is scarce, they kill 
and eat other animals — wood-mice, 
rabbits, caribous — anything they can 
lay their great paws on. 

Bruin is a fine fisherman. He sits 
on the shore of a shallow stream and 
waits, silent and wary. A quick flash 

— a gleam of gold-red in the water. 
Out flies Bruin’s paw. The next in¬ 
stant the fish lies on the shore. 

A bear likes all manner of sweet 
things. Best of all, perhaps, he enjoys 
the honey he steals away from the bees. 





58 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

And he likes something else as sour as 
honey is sweet. He comes to an old 
rotten log. He sniffs the air like a 
hungry school-boy. He lays the log 
open. From one end to the other he 
runs his great greedy tongue. Nothing 
is nicer for him than plenty of red ants. 

In the Berry Bushes 

Bears like berries of all kinds. Once 
a big bear took her family black- 
berrying. It was hard picking. The 
berries were scarce and briers were 
thick. At last, in a cleared space, the 
bears came upon a tin pail full to the 
brim of luscious, purple-black berries. 
They dragged the pail away into the 
bushes. What a picnic they then had! 
They were eating the last of their feast 
when there came a sound which made 
the mother bear throw up her head, 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 59 

sniff the air, and give a low cry of 
danger. One cub wanted to see what 
was the matter. He poked his black 
head out of the bushes. But he drew 
it back again and ran for his life. 

What he had seen was a number of 
hunters and guides. Some of them 
were dragging a dead bear. Two were 
leading a cub. 

The men didn’t stop long to look for 
their lost pail of blackberries. What 
were a few quarts of berries to a 
beautiful black bearskin ? It had been 
great sport, too, they thought, killing 
a real live bear. It would be some¬ 
thing to tell their friends in the city. 

It seems cruel, doesn’t it, that a 
man, who really doesn’t need a bear¬ 
skin or bear meat or any part of a 
bear, should spend his time in shooting 
bears just for fun? 


6 o Our Neighbors of the Forests 


And the cub — poor little fellow. 
He looked at the green woods as he 
went along. He filled his nostrils full 
of the scents he loved so. He seemed 
to know that he would never come 
back. If he had known all about the 
life he would have to lead, I think he 
would rather have been dead like the 
other bear. He would be sold. He 
would be tamed and trained. 

He would have to walk miles along 
dusty roads. Then on street corners, 
tired and homesick, he would be made 
to carry a musket and march. He 
would be made to go round and round 
in a circle, taking great clumsy steps 
in time to a tune which his keeper 
would sing — cracking his whip mean¬ 
while. If he didn’t do it all as well 
as he could, he would be whipped and 
kicked. Never more could he live the 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 61 

big, free, out-of-door life he was made 
to live — poor little lonely Bruin! 

When a Bear is Attacked or 
Wounded 

he becomes savage. He fights for his 
life with great keenness and cunning. 
When her little ones are in danger the 
mother bear is roused to a fierce frenzy. 
She will do anything, that a bear can 
do, to save their lives. 

Hibernation 

When the days grow short and cold, 
bears begin to think of winter. They 
are sleek and fat. Their fur is warm 
and thick. They are not afraid of 
snow and storm and cold. But they 
know that for months the woods will 
furnish them no food. So they look 



62 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

up hollow logs or caves, crawl inside, 
curl up, and go to sleep, to sleep all 
through the long winter. This long 
winter nap of theirs is called hiber¬ 
nation. 

During their hibernation, bears suck 
their paws. They don’t do this to keep 
from starving, as some people think. 
They need no food at this time. But 
all summer long, up hill and down, 
over stones and brambles, through wet 
places and dry places, those faithful 
feet have carried their heavy bodies. 
The outside skin is old and dry and 
cracked and worn out. The bears help 
it to come off by sucking it. By spring 
a fine new skin will have grown in its 
place. 

A bear’s breath is so hot that it often 
melts a place in the snow around the 
open end of the log. In the first warm 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 63 

days of spring, the bears wake, and 
crawl out into the sunshine. With the 
mother bear come two new little cubs. 
They were born to her in the old log' 
during the winter. 

A Story 

One night — a crisp, cold night, all 
stars and snow — Joe and his bit of a 
sister, Bess, made maple taffy. 

It was the kind which must be stirred 
and stirred until it thickens into a 
golden, creamy mass. Then it must 
be cut into crisp toothsome squares, 
which melt away in sweetness in your 
mouth. 

Well, the sirup had boiled and boiled. 

The old black kettle with the crack 
in it had held together. 

Bess couldn’t wait another minute 
for the candy to be done. So Joe 




64 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

took the kettle from the fire and began 
to stir. The kitchen was too hot. 
Joe put Bess in her high chair at the 
window. Then he went outside to 
finish his candy making. All went well 
until Bess leaned too far forward, be¬ 
cause she must see how the candy 
was getting on. The chair leaned, too. 
Bess fell out with a scream. The chair 
fell on top of her with a crash. Mother 
came. Joe set down the kettle and 
came, too. He picked up the chair. 
He brought the witch hazel bottle and 
some brown paper and hot water, and 
ever so many things. It was half an 
hour before Bess stopped crying and 
wanted some candy. 

Joe ran out of doors. The candy 
was gone — kettle and all. There was 
nothing left to tell that there had ever 
been any candy save the big circle in 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 65 

the snow where the kettle had stood 
and — some large tracks . 

Joe knelt down. He looked care¬ 
fully at the tracks. Had Jerry stolen 
up and played a trick on him ? There 
was the print of a sole and five toes. 
But they were much too large for Jerry's 
feet. Besides, would Jerry go barefoot 
on such a night? And besides — Joe 
looked more closely — did a boy's feet 
have sharp claws on each toe ? It 
couldn't be Jerry. And there were 
only two homes, Joe's and Jerry's, on 
the mountain side. 

If you have ever made a kettle full 
of candy, thinking as each bubble burst, 
how good it was going to be, you can 
think just how anxious Joe was to find 
the thief and get back the stolen sweets. 
Mother was busy with Bess. The big, 
bright face of the moon was just looking 



66 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

down over the mountain. It was light 
as day. Joe set out to follow those 
queer looking tracks. 

He trudged sturdily along. Suddenly 
a low grunt, or growl, or both in one, 
brought him to a quick halt. Across 
the road was the thief — a large half- 
grown brown bear. But what was the 
matter with him? Joe quite forgot to 
be afraid in his wonder at the strange 
sight. For on that bear’s head — fitted 
snugly like a round cap, and held fast 
by the hardened mass of candy inside 
— was the big black kettle. The bear 
had stuck his inquisitive nose into the 
kettle to see what the delicious smelling 
stuff might be. The kettle had gone 
onto his head. And there it had stayed 
and still stayed and meant to stay in 
spite of the bear’s frantic efforts to free 
himself. This way and that he lunged 




Our Neighbors of the Forests 67 

and plunged. He threw his head and 
shook it wildly. He clutched at the 
air with his great paws. Still the kettle 
stuck fast. Its handle hung down be¬ 
hind. 

At a safe distance Joe watched the 
bear’s antics. He doubled up with 
laughter. The tears streamed down 
his cheeks. If only Jerry was there! 
Suddenly, a sharp crack! crack! rang 
out. The bear had given a mighty 
leap. He had struck the kettle against 
a great rock at the side of the road. 
It snapped and fell to the ground. 
Part of the candy went with it. More 
clung in sweet sticky strings and crisp 
chunks to the bear’s brown head. But 
he was free. 

Joe didn’t wait to see what the bear’s 
next move might be. He didn’t even 
wait to finish his laugh. For, even a 


68 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

boy — if he had walked about with a 
kettle of candy on his head — might 
become cross. Joe thought best to let 
him get good-natured by himself. He 
ran home about as fast as two sturdy 
legs would take him. 

Next morning he and Jerry went to 
the great rock. There, in the midst of 
big bear tracks, lay the two pieces of 
the kettle. And inside and outside it 
was scraped, licked, scoured — there 
was not one crumb of the candy left 
anywhere! 




FOXES 


After a storm, among the tracks of 
grouse and squirrels and rabbits, are 
some other tracks showing clear and 
sharp against the snow. They are so 
wild, so free, and show such nimble 
feet, they can belong only to a fox. 
They tell plainly about his wanderings 
since the storm. Here he went slowly. 
Perhaps he was planning where to get 
a good breakfast. 

Kinds of Foxes 

The Silver or Black Fox is an elegant 
creature. He is black, with long silky 
hairs, many of them delicately ringed 
with silver gray. His tail is tipped 
with white. 


69 



FOXES 






Our Neighbors of the Forests 71 

The Gray Fox is dull gray, touched 
here and there with black. His tail is 
gray-white on the sides, rusty below, 
and black at the tip. 

The Common Red Fox is best known 
to us. He is tawny red with yellow 
gleams in his fur to match the yellow 
gleams in his eyes. The under side of 
his body and the lower parts of his 
back are grizzly gray. Along the under 
side of his body runs a narrow line of 
white. His throat is white. The backs 
of his stiff, straight ears, his keen, 
pointed nose, his slender legs, and the 
tips of the hair on his tail are black and 
glossy. 

This tail is the pride of his life. 
It is of a warm golden-red color — 
light and feathery. When he runs, it 
seems to float above him — a yellow 
torch shining against the whiteness of 




72 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

the snow. But in wet weather, when 
he has run far and fast, his tail some¬ 
times becomes damp, bedraggled and 
heavy as a mop. At last, he can carry 
it no more. So he takes refuge in his 
den. There he stays until it becomes 
dry and light again. 

Dens 

In the spring, a fox goes out house¬ 
hunting. Sometimes he selects a good 
place, burrows deep into the earth, and 
makes his own den. But he would 
much prefer — the wily fox — to take 
possession of a burrow already made 
— a rabbit’s, maybe. That the rabbit 
has made her home herself and is 
living there in peace and quiet makes 
no difference at all to the fox. To 
his way of thinking, all that is neces¬ 
sary is to get rid of the rabbit. And 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 73 

if one is a fox, that isn’t a hard thing 
to do. 

Often a fox den is in the midst of an 
open field. This may be so that the 
wary creatures can see on all sides, and 
spy danger afar off. New England 
foxes usually have but one or two rooms 
in their homes. These rooms are dark 
as pockets. But foxes don’t mind that. 
Their eyes, like a cat’s, can see as well 
in the dark as in the light. 

Usually a fox family has more than 
one den. If they find that one is being 
watched, they move to another as quickly 
and quietly as possible. Many a boy 
and dog have come up, breathless after 
a long run, to the mouth of a fox den. 
They have dug deep down, and have 
found it — empty! 

Fox cubs look more like round, roly- 
poly, yellow gray bundles of woolly fur 



74 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

than anything else. Their tails are so 
short and stiff it doesn’t seem that they 
will ever grow soft and plumy. 

The mother fox takes very good care 
of her funny babies. She feeds them 
young mice and rats. They grow larger 
and larger. They have pert, pointed 
faces, sharp ears, and bright, cunning 
eyes full to the brim of mischief. 

Some bright day she takes them out¬ 
doors to play. They bound about in 
the sunshine like woolly balls. They 
frolic about like puppies. They chase 
their tails. They pounce pell mell-upon 
each other. They make sudden dives 
upon their dignified old mother. They 
pull her tail. They give short, sharp 
yelps like baby puppies learning to 
bark. They find an unwary cricket 
hurrying home to his family, and worry 
him almost out of his wits. They forget 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 75 

him when one little cub finds a big, lazy 
June bug taking a nap. They have 
moments when they sit quietly and look 
the field over with wise, round eyes. 

There comes a sound — far-off and 
faint — the bark of Rover, the farm 
dog, or the shout of Billy as he runs 
home from school. The mother springs 
to her feet. She speaks. The fox 
babies know what she says. Away 
they scamper, helter-skelter, and tumble 
one over the other into their den. A 
moment later and a cluster of black 
points — which are noses — and a clus¬ 
ter of bright points — which are eyes 
— are all that can be seen of the little 
family. 

It is said that when a fox has a den 
near a farmhouse, she never robs the 
hen-roosts of that particular farm. In¬ 
stead she goes a long, tiresome journey 







76 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

to some far-away bam, helps herself 
to whatever she can find, and brings 
home many a tempting meal to her 
babies. While her cubs are small, she 
will not risk being caught near her 
home. Both parents will protect their 
little ones, even to laying down their 
own lives, if necessary. They will 
starve rather than take food from their 
children. 


Food 

Foxes eat all sorts of animal food. 
Each fox — when he is old enough — 
hunts by himself. At night he steals 
out cautiously, creeping carefully along, 
often going miles in search of just the 
food he wants. No rabbit, squirrel, 
field-mouse, rat, or mole is safe when 
a fox is abroad. He likes fruit, too — 
especially grapes. 





Our Neighbors of the Forests 77 

A fox doesn’t like to wet his feet. 
It is said, however, that a very fine 
crab sometimes so tempts him that he 
forgets his dislike of water. There is 
a story of a fox who used to drag his 
bushy tail back and forth lightly over 
the water. When a crab put up a 
foolish claw and grabbed the tail, the 
fox dragged him quickly to land. 

When a fox finds chickens at roost 
in a tree, he has a strange way of 
catching them. He runs round and 
round, round and round, round and 
round the tree. The chickens watch, 
lean out, farther — farther—grow dizzy, 
lose their balance, and, with frightened 
clucks, fall straight to the ground. 

Traps 

Foxes are such thieves, helping them¬ 
selves to anything they can lay paws 



78 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

on, it is no wonder that farmers don’t like 
them and do all they can to catch them. 

To catch a fox in a trap, one must 
take lessons in patience and skill of a 
fox himself. The trap must not be 
placed anywhere near the chicken coop 
— a fox is on guard there. It must be 
put in the woods or in a field where 
the fox is known to hunt. 

For a week, maybe, before the trap 
is set the trapper coaxes the fox some¬ 
thing like this: He cuts a place in the 
frozen ground. He digs out three or 
four inches of earth. He fills this place 
with ashes or dried leaves or chaff, in 
which are mixed bits of roasted cheese. 
For awhile the fox won’t touch this 
tempting meal. But some cold night, 
he pokes among the ashes and has a 
delicious lunch of cheese. Nothing hap¬ 
pens, so he tries it again and again. 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 79 

Before the first fall of snow, the trapper 
hides his trap in the bed of ashes and 
cheese. But after all his trouble, the 
chances are that the sly fox will take 
a sniff or two, shake his head doubtfully, 
and trot quietly away. 

If a fox is caught, he will fool the 
trapper if he can. Sometimes he plays 
that he is dead. There he lies — held 
by one foot in the trap — frozen stiff. 
The dog comes up and noses him. The 
trapper pokes and prods him. He is as 
still as only he knows how to be. The 
trapper leaves him for a brief moment. 
There is a flash, the bark of a surprised 
dog, a flash of red-gold tail far off 
toward the woods — and the fox is gone. 

Fox Hunting 

In some parts of this country, and 
in others, fine kennels are found where 




80 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

large packs of hounds are kept just for 
the purpose of running down foxes. 

Some clear, crisp morning the whole 
pack is turned loose. Soon they are on 
the track of a fox. Away they go, 
followed by the hunters with their guns. 
For miles around the woods resound 
with the deep, musical baying of the 
hounds. 

About a half-mile ahead of them runs 
the fox for whom all this chase is made. 
He is so fleet of foot, so light of heart, 
so full of bounding life from the tip of 
his pointed nose to the end of his 
beautiful tail, that he leads the dogs 
a rapid chase. Up hill, down hill, on 
and on and on for miles and miles 
they go. The fox eludes his hunters 
at every turn. He bounds across the 
dry stones in the bed of the brook. 
He crosses and criss-crosses the field 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 81 

until his tracks lead in and out and out 
and in, back and forth over each other. 
He goes with long, easy strides up the 
hill. He mounts a high rock. He 
watches the dogs down below him 
trying to untwist the tangle of his 
footprints. He almost smiles. Far off 
the fox spies a hunter. He comes 
nearer, gun leveled. The fox is up 
and away with nervous, nimble leaps 
toward the woods. He crosses a piece 
of ploughed ground. He walks coolly 
along the frozen rut of the high road 
where a loaded sleigh has just passed. 
No scent of his rapid feet will stay in 
frozen ground. He goes through a 
pasture to walk about in the footprints 
the cows have left there. The dogs 
will have hard work tracing him there. 
Near the woods he finds the fresh tracks 
of another fox. He walks carefully in 


82 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

these for awhile. Then he branches 
off for himself, leaving the dogs to 
decide when they come up which set 
of tracks belong to him. 

Wild, beautiful, buoyant fellow, fleet 
as the wind, you have our best wishes 
•for escape, now and always. Elude 
the hunters as best you may. Keep 
as long as you can the strong, free, 
gladsome life God has given you. The 
“sport” of hunting you to the death is 
something of which civilized men should 
be ashamed. 


A Story 

It was a cold, moonlit night with 
the first snow lying white and smooth 
over the ground. Freddy walked fast, 
whistling below his breath to show 
himself that he wasn’t afraid. Sud¬ 
denly he heard a sharp, short bark. 


, Our Neighbors of the Forests 83 

It didn’t sound just like a dog’s bark. 
Freddy bent his head to listen. There 
in the light snow, he saw a track — 
dozens of tracks, small and sharp. 
Freddy stopped whistling. They were 
fox tracks. 

Freddy hadn’t lived all his life in a 
little wayback New England village for 
nothing. He knew that to see a fox, 
even, a boy must use all his caution 
and cunning, and then probably he 
won’t see him. But it is worth trying 
for. So Freddy crept to a clump of 
evergreens some distance from the path. 
He sat down on a rock to wait and 
listen. Wary as a fox himself, he 
peered through the dark boughs. He 
drew back, scarce believing his eyes. 
He looked again, caught his breath, 
and then sat as still as the rock itself 
to watch. 



84 Our Neighbors of the Forests , 

Just beyond the evergreens was a 
cleared space. And this is what Freddy 
saw. One, two, three — six foxes — 
beautiful, half-grown creatures, with 
tawny tails flashing in the moonlight. 
They were well fed. They were out 
for nothing more nor less than a grand 
frolic. They flew round and round 
after their bushy tails. They jumped 
and capered. They dashed into each 
other and fought play battles like jolly 
school boys. They raced and chased and 
chased and raced in and out of the 
soft yellow light. One was ruddy red, 
and one was dark with a thick, soft fur 
which would make him run for his little 
life some day. 

Suddenly a thought came to Freddy. 
He had heard somewhere that if one 
gave a short, sharp squeak like a wood- 
mouse one could coax a fox to come 




Our Neighbors of the Forests 85 

close to one. Now there wasn’t an 
animal anywhere around the village 
that Freddy couldn’t mimic. Many a 
time his mother heard the cat mew 
piteously and opened the door only to 
find Freddy outside. All around the 
house in unlikely places, squirrels chat¬ 
tered, hens clucked, and turkeys gobbled. 
Crows cawed in the dead of night. 
Frogs chirped shrilly and “kerchugged ” 
from high snow-banks. The time had 
now come when Freddy could make 
some real use of his gift. 

He shut his lips tightly. Then he 
drew in his breath sharply and quickly. 
“Squeak, squeak, squeak.” Surely a 
wood-mouse spoke! 

The fleetest of the foxes paused in his 
play. He turned his head, listening. 

“Squeak,” said the little mouse again 
softly. The fox bounded straight to- 


86 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

ward the clump of evergreen trees. 
He paused. Freddy waited. There 
was no hurry. After a minute the 
mouse said, “Squeak, squeak,” in a 
voice that trembled ever so slightly. 

A few swift graceful leaps — and the 
fox stood face to face with Freddy on 
the rock. 

Freddy sat motionless — half fright¬ 
ened, scarce daring to breathe. The 
fox showed no surprise whatever. He 
stood still, one foot lifted, his plumy 
tail a graceful curve of light against the 
snow. His eyes were fixed on Freddy’s 
face, as if he would read the tiniest 
thoughts way back in his head. Then 
slowly he turned, and trotted quietly 
away toward the woods. When he 
was once out of sight, though, what a 
change came over him. He jumped 
about and frolicked and capered. “I 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 87 


fooled that boy,” he thought. “I was 
frightened half out of my wits. But I 
didn’t let him see it.” Then he fell to 
thinking about that wood-mouse. For, 
with all his cunning, he had not seen 
through Freddy’s trick. He resolved 
that the very next night he would go 
back and find her. 

Meanwhile Freddy ran home. “My 
—ee! Wasn’t he great!” said he to 
himself. Then he barked exactly like 
a fox. Farmer Brown’s turkeys woke, 
tumbled off their perches, flapped their 
wings, and cried so piteously that the 
farmer came out with his gun and his 
dog, determined “to catch that fox this 
time, anyway.” 
































WOODCHUCKS 


A woodchuck is a queer little creature. 
His body is flabby and heavy. It is 
covered with coarse, shaggy fur, brown- 
gray on top and brown-red underneath. 
His short, thick legs seem made for 
digging rather than running. His black 
feet seem too big for the rest of his body. 
On the underside they are quite bare. 
His tail is dark and bushy. His neck 
is so short that it seems a part of his 
thick-set little body rather than a neck. 
His head is broad and flat. He has a 
stupid little face with a wide nose, 
thick lips, stout whiskers, and funny 
ears standing up stiff and straight to 
hear all that is going on in the wood¬ 
chuck world. Do your best — you can't 

89 



9 o 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

make anything very winning out of a 
woodchuck. He is just a commonplace 
sort of fellow with the scent of the 
warm brown earth always clinging to 
his rough coat. 


Dens 

Probably the great, great, great grand¬ 
parents of our woodchucks always lived 
in the woods. This gave the family its 
name — woodchucks. Nowadays, per¬ 
haps, woodchucks find juicy grass and 
tender leaves more to their tastes than 
dry bark and twigs. Anyway, they 
usually live in fields and pastures. 

From the outside, about all you can 
see of a woodchuck’s house is a hole 
in the ground. But this is only the 
door. Step inside the little home. You 
will find that, in spite of stupid face 
and manner, the woodchuck knows 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 91 

something about building a comfortable 
home. 

Usually he selects a spot on a side 
hill. He digs with his stout fore feet 
and his sharp teeth. The loose earth 
he throws backward under his body. 
With his hind feet he kicks it out of 
the way. He makes the door of his 
house lower than the rooms themselves. 
When a freshet comes, he won’t be 
drowned out of house and home. The 
door leads into a long, narrow hall 
which slants up maybe for two or three 
feet. Then it turns upward sharply 
and runs perhaps for eight or ten feet 
parallel to the surface of the ground. 

The burrow is sometimes divided into 
several rooms. Besides the front door 
on the hillside, there is a back door 
somewhere. If you were a woodchuck, 
you would often go to your front door 


92 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

intending to go to market. You would 
find just outside — waiting for you to 
step into it — a trap all carefully set. 
It is at such times that a back door 
comes in handy. The woodchuck turns 
around. He runs the length of his 
narrow hall. He walks quietly out of 
his back door. 

Food 

Grass, herbs, roots, and the best of 
the farmer’s ripe fruit and vegetables 
are the woodchuck’s food. * Best of all 
he likes red clover. 

Hibernation 

The fields grow brown and bare. 
The delicious red clover is all gone. 
Woodchucks find themselves so sleepy 
they forget even to be hungry. So 
they “hole up.” That is, they go into 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 93 

their burrows for winter. They shut 
the doors behind them. They creep 
into the snug inner room. They curl 
themselves up in tight woolly balls, 
their noses hidden in their fur. They 
are soon sound asleep. 

Young Woodchucks 

In the spring the woodchucks wake 
up and come out of their holes. They 
are rough and untidy. They use the 
only combs they have — their sharp 
claws — and get the tangles out of their 
fur. They wash themselves as a cat 
does. 

Then one day to one of the burrows 
come six baby woodchucks. The rooms 
are rather small for so large a family. 
When fall comes, the six babies are as 
big as their parents. The little under¬ 
ground house can’t hold so many. So 


94 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

the young folks build new homes not 
far away. Into these they crawl, shut 
up the doors, curl up, and go to sleep 
for the winter. 

A Story of Candlemas Day 

“Sunny morning,” said Uncle John, 
shaking his head at the blue sky. 
“Late spring, that means” — 

“Why?” asked Nan, looking up 
from her buckwheat cakes and maple 
sirup. 

“Well,” said Uncle John, smiling, 
“you see, Nannie, this is the second 
day of February — Candlemas Day. 
Now, on this very day, every year, 
that old woodchuck, who lives in the 
hole over in the south pasture, wakes 
up and comes outside to look things 
over. It is so bright to-day he will see 
his shadow on the snow. So back he 




Our Neighbors of the Forests 95 

will go to take another snooze six weeks 
long. That makes a late spring” — 

“ Will he, really , Uncle John ?” asked 
Nan. 

“I never saw him myself,” said 
Uncle John; “but that’s what they 
say. They’re great weather prophets 
— the woodchucks. 

“ If Candlemas Day is fair and clear 
There’ll be two winters in the year.” 

This was Nan’s first winter in the 
country. There were strange ‘things 
happening every day — but this was 
the strangest of all. 

Nan had caught glimpses of the old 
woodchuck scurrying in and out of his 
hole last fall. Really, he looked too 
stupid to know the day of the month. 

“Run out doors and play, dear,” 
said Aunt Margaret, by and by. 



g6 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

Nan went at once. She looked across 
the* broad, snow-covered pasture. If 
one was light and stepped very care¬ 
fully and kept very, very close to the 
fence, one might get across. 

Some way or other Nan did it. She 
stumbled up the hill at the other side 
of the pasture, where last June the 
clover had grown red and sweet. Some 
brown heads stuck up, now. Each 
wore a winter night-cap of snow. Nan 
picked one. The woodchuck must be 
hungry after his long nap. Maybe 
dried clover would be better than 
nothing. 

Nan found the spot where the wood¬ 
chuck’s hole had been. It was close 
to a pile of rocks and stones. She sat 
down to watch. The world was so big 
and bright and white it was all she 
could do to keep her eyes open. She 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 97 

walked about a little while. It wouldn’t 
do to go sleep. The old woodchuck 
might come at any minute. 

Once she heard a rustle somewhere. 
She ran to the woodchuck hole. All 
was still there. Then she saw a chick¬ 
adee peeping at her from some bushes. 
He must be hungry, Nan thought. 

“Guess I’ll have to be going,” she 
said to the chickadee. “Uncle’ll miss 
me if I’m not home to dinner.” She 
put the faded clover down close to the 
woodchuck’s door. 

Then she went away. Half • way 
home, she turned to look back. Some¬ 
thing she saw made her shade her eyes 
and look again. There, near the wood¬ 
chuck’s house, against the snow, she 
saw something dark. She waited only 
to make sure. Then back she ran. 

All out of breath, she came to the 


g8 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

hole. There was a flutter of wings as 
a startled chickadee flew up from the 
bushes. But there was no red-brown 
woodchuck anywhere. The little door 
was closed and locked. Had he gone 
in again so soon ? 

Uncle John laughed when she told 
him. He says the only way Nan can 
be sure about the woodchuck is to wait 
and see what kind of a spring there is. 
For if he did come out that day, he 
couldn’t fail to see his shadow. And 
that will make the spring late. So Nan 
is waiting anxiously. But down in her 
heart she is quite sure that he did 
come out. She has told Uncle John 
why. When she went back that day 
to the woodchuck’s house the head of 
clover was gone from the door! 


RABBITS 


The common wood-rabbit is brown 

— a soft, warm brown, prettily penciled 
with lines of black. On his sides this 
brown fades into gray. On the under 
side of his body the gray becomes pure 
white. His tail is so short it looks 
almost as if it had been cropped off. 
On the top it is the color of his back. 
Underneath it is soft, downy white. 
This funny white tail of the wood-rabbit 
gives him one of his best known names 

— cottontail. He has a near relative 

— the hare — whose tail is all black. 

Summer Time 

The rabbit home is usually built by 
the mother rabbit. It is in or near the 

99 





RABBITS 








Our Neighbors of the Forests 


IOI 


woods. Sometimes it is a long, narrow 
burrow in the hillside. Often, Bunny 
builds what is called a form. She digs 
up a piece of turf. She lays this one 
side to use by and by. She scoops out 
a little hollow in the ground. She lines 
it with grass and fur which she takes 
from her own soft breast. Over the 
little nest, she fits back carefully the 
piece of turf. 

In this little home, by and by, a half 
dozen or more baby rabbits are born. 
They are small and weak and helpless. 
They have no fur. Like kittens, their 
eyes are shut tight. Ten or twelve 
days pass before the babies can see. 
Then what a nice warm home they find 
themselves in! What a kind, tender 
little mother they have! Often she 
leaves them alone for a long time. 
But she always comes back. She is 


102 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

careful to go and come unseen. She 
hides all signs of the little door of the 
house. Even the father doesn’t know 
where the nest is hidden. For, it is 
said, should he see his babies before 
their fur is grown, he would eat them 
at once. 

By and by, in suits of sleek gray fur, 
mother takes her six bright-eyed babies 
to see their father. She pokes them 
about and shows off all their good 
points. The family is already large. 
The children next older than these 
babies aren’t yet grown up. But the 
father seems pleased with his new 

babies. 

* 

Food 

As is usually the case in large families, 
the little rabbits soon learn to look after 
themselves. Food isn’t hard to find, 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 103 

for they eat all sorts of plants and 
herbs. Like the woodchuck, they are 
fond of clover. Best of all they like 
vegetables. 

To think of a garden with whole 
beds of carrots, parsnips, and turnips 
just makes Bunny’s hungry little mouth 
water. 

There is cool, crisp lettuce, too; and 
delicious cabbage leaves. All day long 
he thinks about them. At night when 
the big dog is safely tied up, away goes 
Bunny to the garden. Such a feast as 
he has. Long before light his nimble 
little feet carry him back home. Only 
the jolly Man-in-the-moon has seen 
and he won’t tell. 

Bunny likes bark, too. He picks om 
a young tree. He stands on his hind 
feet. He reaches up just as far as he 
can and nibbles off the tender bark. 


104 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

Some of it he eats. More of it he leaves 
on the ground. This gnawing is good 
for his teeth. It keeps them short and 
sharp. But it kills the tree. 

Enemies 

Bunny has many enemies. There is 
the farmer, whose vegetables he eats 
and whose trees he kills. There are 
dogs on all sides. But if one keeps 
close watch one can run away from 
men and dogs, hiding in the first con¬ 
venient burrow. If, as happens some¬ 
times, that belongs to a woodchuck or 
a weazel or a fox, and he happens to 
be at home, Bunny finds that he has 
gone from “the frying-pan into the 
fire.” For all these animals, as well as 
minks and skunks and ferrets, are fond 
of rabbits. Sometimes, too, a swift 
rush of wings and a downward swoop 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 105 

of a hungry hawk or owl sends Bunny 
trembling with fright into the nearest 
hiding place. 

It is well for the rabbit that nature 
has made his coat of gray-brown fur. 
It is so much the color of leaves, and 
shadows, and soil, and that, unless his 
white tail gives him away, he is often 
quite unseen under a big burdock or 
among the friendly ferns. He has a 
keen scent, too, far sight, and four 
fleet, trusty little legs. 

Winter Time 

Bunny’s little home among the wild 
asters and goldenrod is too cold for 
winter, so he builds another. Rather 
he sits down in the shelter of some 
rock and lets the snow build one for 
him. Thick and fast, thick and fast, 
come the great white flakes. Bunny is 


106 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

soon well covered. He gets up and 
moves gently from side to side so that 
the snow may not pack too hard nor 
too close. And in a short time he 
finds himself inside the snuggest and 
coziest of homes — its walls and roof 
all of glistening white snow. In the 
roof is a little hole made by his breath. 
Through this hole comes plenty of fresh 
air. Out of it goes a strong, unmis¬ 
takable rabbit scent. On some frosty 
morning the dog who hunted him all 
summer puts up his nose and sniffs the 
air once or twice. Then off and away 
he goes, straight toward the little snow- 
house under the cedars. Don’t you 
hope Bunny will have gone for a run 
across the snow ? 

Bunny’s footprints of a winter morning 
tell an interesting story. The two fore 
prints are about six inches apart. They 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 107 

are made by the hind feet. The two 
prints just back of them and close to¬ 
gether show the quick, light touch of 
the short fore paws. The prints are 
like Bunny himself — nimble, gentle, 
and timid. 

Bunny doesn’t mind the deep snow. 
When it is so deep that it brings him 
where he can reach the tops of the 
young maples, he is very happy. Then 
“Crunch, crunch,” go the sharp teeth; 
and the tops of the maples look as if a 
boy had been along and cut them off 
with his jack-knife. 

Good Times 

Bunny is often frightened half out of 
his little skin. He often sees hard 
times when food is scarce and snow 
and cold are plenty. But on the 
whole it is a free, frolicsome, rollick- 


io8 Our Neighbors of the Forests 


some life that he leads — gay as a 
gypsy’s. 

To see him at his very best, one 
must visit him in the heart of some 
great forest far away from human voice 
and dog-bark. 

The great sun goes down. The woods 
are full of shadows and moonbeams. 
“Thump! thump! thump!” What is 
that ? Again it comes — and again — 
“Thump! thump! thump!” 

It is only a little rabbit down there 
on the edge of the clearing. He has 
just come from home for the evening 
play-spell. He leaps high in the air. 
As he comes down, he strikes the 
ground sharply with his heavily padded 
foot, “Thump! thump! thump!” How 
can such a little foot make such a big 
noise ? Sometimes this sound is a dan¬ 
ger signal. When a crowd of rabbits 





Our Neighbors of the Forests 109 

hear it fom one of their number, how 
they will scatter! Sometimes, it seems 
that Bunny makes this queer noise out 
of pure mischief—as if he was trying 
to frighten you. 

To-night it seems to be the signal for 
beginning the midnight frolic. A num¬ 
ber of rabbits are already in the clearing. 
Every minute there are fresh arrivals. 
One by one, ears well laid back, feet 
scarcely seeming to touch the ground; 
two by two racing along; in social little 
family groups; still they come. 

A dance begins. The rabbits put on 
comical little airs. They trip to and 
fro with slow, even steps. Somebody 
gets angry. He stamps his foot. They 
all scamper away. Then, after a min¬ 
ute’s silence, from under a fern, up 
pokes an inquisitive little nose. A head 
follows and two long, brown ears. 



no Our Neighbors of the Forests 

Out whizzes a rabbit — two — four — 
six — a dozen. The clearing is full of 
them again. Round and round they 
go in a wild go-as-you-please dance. 
They get tired of this and play games. 
One looks like fox and geese. Another 
is surely leap frog. Two little fellows 
are going round and round the clearing 
like race horses — dark eyes shining, 
white tails flashing in the moonlight. 
Two others are boxing with quick, deft 
paws. Hark! far off and faint, some¬ 
one hears a fox bark. The next instant 
there isn’t a rabbit in sight. Only the 
nodding ferns and startled shadows 
show the way they have gone. 

Story 

One day Babbie and Fritz were play¬ 
ing in the woods near Babbie’s home. 
Suddenly Fritz pricked up his brown 



Our Neighbors of the Forests hi 

velvet ears, sniffed once or twice, and 
was off through the underbrush. Babbie 
followed as fast as she could. She and 
Fritz had seen the same thing — a tiny 
brown rabbit. It looked like the shadow 
of the burdock leaf under which it sat. 
But shadows don’t have big bright eyes 
and white tails. 

Catch him, Fritz,” called Babbie. 
“ Catch him, only don't hurt him.” 

Last Easter mother had told Babbie 
that over in Germany little boys and 
girls believe a rabbit lays the dainty 
colored Easter eggs. 

For a whole year now, Babbie had 
wanted a pet rabbit. If they could 
only get this one. 

But they couldn’t. Bunny was too 
sharp and too spry for them. When 
Fritz came to a stream of water he lost 
all track of the hurrying little feet. 


11 2 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

Back he came to Babbie; and they 
went home and told mother all about it. 

“ Never mind, dear/’ said mother. 
“Just wait till morning. Maybe you’ll 
find the Easter eggs, if you did lose the 
rabbit.” 

Sure enough, next morning, in a little 
basket on the table, Babbie found five 
beautiful Easter eggs — red, blue, yel¬ 
low, purple, and green. While she tried 
to decide which was the prettiest, in 
came father. 

“Come with me, Babbie,” he said; 
“I want to show you something.” 

Out in the clearing, father told Babbie 
to look all around carefully and see 
what she could find. Babbie looked 
and looked. All she could see was a 
little patch of dried grass about as big 
as father’s two hands. 

Babbie took hold of this. Up it 




Our Neighbors of the Forests 113 

came. Under it was a cozy fur-lined 
nest. In the nest was the bright-eyed 
rabbit. And with her — no Easter eggs, 
but six funny, fuzzy, gray-brown baby 
rabbits. 





MONKEYS 










MONKEYS 


Perhaps, among all the animals, there 
isn’t another quite so tired and home¬ 
sick as the little brown monkey who 
goes about with the hand organ. He 
wears a faded red coat. A scarlet cap 
sets jauntily on his head. He runs 
about as well as he can at the end of a 
stout chain. He makes a pert bow. 
He passes his master’s hat for pennies. 
But all the time he looks at the world 
with weary, wondering eyes. What is 
he thinking about ? Of a lovely sunlit 
land, maybe, far away across the sea, 
where he used to live. 

In that same lovely land at home in 
the great forest, you would scarcely 


n6 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

know the little scarlet-capped monkey. 
There, he is as merry and mischievous 
as only a monkey knows how to be. 
All day long, he raced up and down 
the branches. He screamed, laughed 
and frolicked. He played all sorts of 
“monkey tricks” on his mother and 
brothers and sisters. Once he threw 
down a big nut to hit the head of a 
man under the tree. The man scolded. 
But the monkey only grinned at him 
and pelted him with more nuts. 

One sad day the monkey walked into 
a trap left for him by a hunter. Then 
his troubles began. The hunter came 
and took him out of the trap. He was 
packed in a box with ever so many 
more unhappy monkeys and crossed 
the great ocean. When the box was 
opened, some of the monkeys were 
lucky enough to be sold as pets for 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 117 

little boys and girls. Away they went 
to warm homes. Others joined a circus. 
Still others went to the Central Park to 
live in cages. Our poor little monkey 
came into the hands of the organ- 
grinder. 

When you are used to the freedom 
of a great green forest, it isn’t easy to 
spend your time on a chain. It isn’t 
easy to walk about on hind feet when 
nature meant you to use all fours. It 
isn’t easy to do funny tricks when one’s 
heart aches to be at home. It isn’t 
easy to live in a land of cold winds and 
winter half the year when one was made 
to live in a land of sunshine and summer. 
The monkey shakes and shivers with 
cold. By and by he begins to cough. 
He is very miserable. But organ-men 
have whips for bad monkeys and food 
for good ones. So the little monkey 


n8 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

wears his scarlet cap and does his best 
day after day. 

The Monkey Family 

The monkey family is a large one. 
In it are monkeys of many sizes, shapes, 
and colors. There are big monkeys, 
middle-sized monkeys, and little mon¬ 
keys. Some have funny faces. Some 
are quite hideous. There are long- 
nosed monkeys and snub-nosed mon¬ 
keys. Some have tails longer than their 
whole bodies. Some have ordinary tails. 
Others have no tails at all. Some of 
them are quite bald. Some have hair 
so long it touches the ground. Some 
have soft, thick fur. Some have no 
fur. Some have cheek pockets in which 
they store away food. Others have 
none. And as for color — there are 
monkeys gray, brown, and black. There 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 119 

are dingy red ones and yellow ones; and 
some monkeys show beautiful tints of 
fiery red, bright blue, and warm purple. 

All monkeys have feet and hands — 
or something so like hands that that is 
what they are called. Most of these 
hands and feet have five fingers and 
five toes. Many of them, however, 
have no real thumbs. Some have nails 
on fingers and toes. Some have claws 
instead. 

A monkey’s foot doesn’t seem made 
so much for walking as for taking hold 
of things. Often the big toe is quite 
like a thumb. A monkey’s hand isn’t 
much like a boy’s. A boy’s hand is 
beautifully made. It shows that the 
boy himself has a brain which tells the 
hand what to do. A monkey’s hand is 
nothing at all but a “paw” — and a 
sly, cunning paw at that. 


120 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 

A monkey’s tail is often something 
more than an ornament. It has been 
called his fifth hand, because it helps 
him in climbing and holding fast to 
things. But it is even more than that. 
It seems almost to see. Sometimes, a 
monkey finds a fresh egg safely hidden 
away in a small niche. His hand 
won’t go in. He whirls around. In a 
flash in goes his tail. It wriggles about 
in the cranny and whisks out the 
treasure to the great delight of the 
monkey. 


Apes 

Apes are very large monkeys. Among 
the apes there are chimpanzees, gorillas, 
and ourang-outangs. When at home 
they live in great forests of Asia and 
Africa. 

The monkeys which we see in our 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 


I 2 I 


cities belong, usually, to the family of 
spider monkeys. 

Spider Monkeys 

Swinging about the trees in the South 
American forests, are hundreds of furry 
little monkeys with funny copper-colored 
faces. They seem to be all legs and 
tails. They look for all the world like 
big black sprawling spiders. They are 
called Spider Monkeys. From the tip 
of his saucy nose to the root of his 
wonderful tail, a spider monkey isn’t 
more than a foot long. His tail, itself, 
is two feet long. He uses it in all sorts 
of ways. It is just the thing to hang 
by from a high branch, and on the 
ground, the spider monkey swings it 
up above his body, curls it into the 
form of a big S, and uses it as a kind 
of balance or sail to help him walk. 


122 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

These monkeys are famous bridge- 
builders. They travel from one forest 
to another in large bands. They come 
to a stream. 

They don’t like to get wet. Most of 
them sit down for a good visit while 
some of the oldest and most traveled 
monkeys look up the. best place to 
build the bridge. 

They pick out a place on the river 
where the trees on the opposite bank 
bend toward the water. Then the most 
powerful of the monkeys climb a tree 
on their side. They twist their tails 
firmly around a branch which over¬ 
hangs the water. They hang heads 
downward. 

Another monkey runs up the tree. 
He walks over the backs of his com¬ 
panions. He twists his tail tightly about 
the body of the last one, and hangs 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 123 

head downward. Up comes another 
monkey, fastening himself in the same 
way. 

One after another does the same. 
In this way a long bridge or chain is 
made with monkeys for links. The 
last monkey in the chain is always one 
of the strongest. When he hangs over 
the farther shore, he pushes the ground 
with his feet. The whole bridge swings 
back and forth, higher and higher. 
The last monkey grabs at a branch. 
He catches it. He draws himself up 
into the branches. He takes firm hold. 
The bridge is built. A signal is given. 
One after another, the monkeys waiting 
on the shore, climb the tree and cross 
the river. 

Some of the young folks are so full 
of life that they play a joke or two on 
the patient old monkeys who are part 


124 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

of the bridge and who can’t let go long 
enough to punish the saucy scamps. 

After the band of monkeys is over, 
those who make the bridge must get 
across. Two or three of the stoutest 
ones who have crossed go up the tree 
where the last monkey holds one end 
of the bridge. They take hold with 
him. They clamber up the branches 
as high as the chain will stretch. A 
second signal is given. The whole line 
swings to the bank opposite. Some of 
the lower ones may get ducked. Once 
over dry land, the lower monkeys drop 
off one by one. The others catch at 
the branches of trees. The chain is 
broken and away goes the whole troop. 

Story 

Tabby lay sound asleep in her basket, 
close to the fire. Taffy crouched near. 


Our Neighbors of the Forests 125 

Taffy was a yellow-brown monkey. 
Tabby was a yellow-white cat. 

Tabby didn’t like Taffy. One day, 
when he had first come, he had tried to 
ride on Tabby’s back. This was more 
than any sober old cat could stand. 
Tabby had never forgotten it. Taffy 
never had, either, for Tabby had used 
her claws. 

But to-day Taffy was so cold that he 
was ready to do almost anything to get 
warm. He crept to the basket. He 
peeped over the edge. Tabby did look 
so warm and comfortable. Taffy leaped 
in. The next instant he cuddled down 
close beside Tabby. Tabby opened 
one great green eye and blinked. Then 
she stretched her paws lazily and began 
to purr. Taffy was so happy he wished 
he knew how to purr, too. 

After that, Taffy and Tabby were 


126 Our Neighbors of the Forests 

good friends. In the spring Tabby’s 
kitten came. She was so proud that 
she took it into the parlor to show her 
mistress and the new baby. Taffy 
watched — his eyes twinkling. 

Next day, while Tabby was out look¬ 
ing up a mouse for dinner, a dreadful 
thing happened. The kitten fell into 
the bath tub. Taffy heard the splash 
and a shrill “Mew! mew!” He flew 
across the room. He sprang on the 
edge of the tub. He reached down 
and caught the struggling kitten in his 
mouth. He dragged her out. Then, 
as gently as Tabby herself, he carried 
the poor, wet, half-drowned creature to 
the basket. He jumped in. He licked 
her off as well as he could. His face 
was full of anxious wrinkles as he 
worked over her. Then he took her 
in his arms and rocked her back and 



Our Neighbors of the Forests 127 

forth, back and forth, just as his mis¬ 
tress did the baby. 

When Tabby came back she found 
the kitten sound asleep in Taffy’s arms. 
She looked puzzled for a minute. Then, 
as everything seemed to be all right, 
she curled up and went to sleep. After 
that she often left her precious baby in 
Taffy’s care. 














9 
















